I grew up in the 1950s on Arthur Avenue, in Fresno, a transplant at age 6 from a vineyard in Kerman. My childhood home reflected the modest means and heritage of my immigrant father and first-generation Armenian American mother.
Colorful Turkish rugs covered hardwood floors in the living room and dining room. Two sets of demitasse Turkish coffee cups and saucers stamped “occupied Japan” lined the shelves on each side of the fireplace. Two faux leather sofas and an upholstered armchair lined the walls. The window coverings were shears over shades. And the coffee table displayed Look, Life, Readers’ Digest and National Geographic magazines.
On Arthur Avenue, my life changed from farm girl running through the rows of a 40-acre vineyard in Kerman to city girl, playing hopscotch on the sidewalk, jacks on the front porch, hide-n-seek in the neighborhood, jumping rope, climbing trees and roller skating up and down the block with my new friend, Pam Jones…